


Sweet Smell of Sunshine

by HalosandSeeds



Series: You and Me [3]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, I'm very proud of this, M/M, Some Fluff, anal penetration, but it's sweet so, enjoy, then smut obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 20:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalosandSeeds/pseuds/HalosandSeeds
Summary: Marilyn held him. And he didn’t let go.OrAngst, recovery, reconciliation… And some fucking.





	1. Help Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Trent for staying with us. Your music keeps me living.   
> This idea for a series has been on my mind for weeks and I had to write it, mostly because of the pain Trent went through and his addiction. Sorry if I’m being a little cheesy. Enjoy!
> 
> The title is taken from the Nine Inch Nails song "I Look Forward to Joining You, Finally" from the album The Fragile.

Without giving himself a good reason and hardly knowing why, of all the reasons in the world, he would actually decide to turn around and go back in the first place, Marilyn barged through the door of Trent’s bedroom angrily. “You know what, Trent? For the record I-“

 

He stopped. Lying on the ground in an almost lifeless, immobile heap was Trent, hair splayed over his face in disarray and limbs sprawled out over the floor. “Trent? Hey, quit playing…” Marilyn carelessly nudged him with his boot, but when Trent remained motionless, a wave of fear washed over him and he dropped to his knees, kneeling by Trent’s side and shaking him incessantly. “Trent! This isn’t fucking funny! Trent!” Marilyn grabbed his jaw and adjusted his face so he could look at him, but he quickly pulled back in shock when he saw the blood slowly pouring from his nose and the trail of frothing spit that had formed in his mouth. “Fuck! Oh fuck, no, no, no, no, no! You took something, didn’t you?”

 

Hauling him up as best as he could and laying him against the foot of the bed, Marilyn sprinted to the phone and frantically dialed the numbers, hoping that he wasn’t too late. He detested how ragged his breaths had become in regards to the god-awful fact that Trent was not breathing _at all_.

 

He remembered Brad. There was that moment of uncertainty and sullen silence when the entire band watched him collapse from intoxication, overdose. At that moment in his life, Marilyn weighed the balance of whether or not he should get him to a hospital and take care of him or stand there and let him die. Right now, he was frantic, desperate, using every minute he had to make sure that Trent was going to make it. He wasted no time, not a single second lost. As he watched them lead Trent away on a stretcher, Marilyn knew without a doubt that he would never leave his side. He couldn’t, wouldn’t lose him again. Everything else seemed meaningless in his eyes.

 

_China white heroin,_ they had said. _Not cocaine. Heroin._ Marilyn wanted to scream.

 

He shook with anticipation while sitting in the waiting room, waiting for Jeordie to arrive. Biting on his fingernails and tapping his foot impatiently, Marilyn breathed in, breathed out, and then closed his eyes, still fidgeting. Who knew the Antichrist could ever look this frightened? A hand on his shoulder caused him to jolt and look up only to stare into the face of his best friend. Jeordie looked equally worried as he ran a hand through his dreads and scratched the back of his neck apprehensively.

 

“How is he?”

 

Marilyn lowered his eyes. “I don’t know. They haven’t told me anything.”

 

“He’ll be okay,” Jeordie assured him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Come on. It’s Trent. Since when does he ever decide to give up?”

 

Blinking back tears, Marilyn almost laughed. There was truth to his words. The fucker didn’t know when to quit. When they pulled away, a nurse approached asking for a Mr. Warner. Marilyn sniffed and raised his hand awkwardly. “That’s me.”

 

Despite his wild appearance, she offered him a small smile. “He’s stable and resting.” Both Marilyn and Jeordie breathed a huge sigh of relief. Marilyn heard his friend beside him ask the nurse if they could go see him, but he was in a daze, too much to even speak. He wanted to cry. He wanted to yell in Trent’s face. He wanted to hold him and kiss him and feel his warm body against him, just knowing that he was going to remain alive. All memories of the fights before seemed to vanish from his mind, even from a few years ago. It all had seemed so stupid, so utterly, fucking stupid. What the hell were they even about? Marilyn couldn’t care less at this point. All he wanted was to see Trent, his lover, the man he had fallen for when he first laid eyes on him. That day interviewing for the 25th Parallel.

 

_He was just… sitting there with a far off, miserable look on his face, and Brian wondered what could possibly make him sulk like that at that moment. He admired him from afar, his dark dreads unkempt, a “Skinny Puppy” tank hanging loosely over his thin frame, those green eyes staring hard at something on the wall in front of him. He looked… perfect, and Brian blushed profusely, cursing himself and reminding himself why he was here in the first place._

_Swallowing hard and brushing his fingers through his light hair, Brian tentatively made his way to the younger man sitting before him and sat down, offering his hand. “H-hi,” he stammered out, mentally kicking himself to sound less stupid. “My name’s Brian Warner, and I’m here to interview you for the 25 th Parallel…” _

_The man eyed him up and down, slightly amused and took his hand with a smirk that almost brightened his gorgeous green eyes. “Trent Reznor,” he said._

_Brian blushed again. “I know…”_

_Trent stared at him, kept amazing eye contact as he asked him questions, but when it became time for him to answer, he would look away sometimes and shift in his seat, twiddling his thumbs. Hell, the man had more social anxiety than he did. But when he looked at him, Brian felt his heart skip a beat and he thought that he wouldn’t mind staring into those piercing eyes forever._

_“You said you were in a band?”_

_Brian lowered his eyes, fighting so hard not to blush for the umpteenth time. “Yeah… it’s Marilyn Manson and the Spooky Kids.”_

_Trent smiled. “I’d love to hear you guys sometime.” He would love to hear him…_

“Trent…”

 

Cracking his eyes open and blinking in the murderous light of day, Trent winced and shifted uncomfortably in a bed that was not his own. He hated the room. Everything was white and bright, almost languid and sick, like the feeling within the pit of his stomach, within his body, making him long to vomit. His own self-loathing and hatred at the world seemed blotted out by this very room and this stiff hospital bed. Without these feelings, Trent merely felt numb, numb and blank and so, so empty. Only one thing, one person contrasted within his cell of a room, and Trent swallowed hard on the lump forming in his throat when he adjusted to the damn light and took in the sight of this towering pall of beautiful, beautiful darkness sitting before him.

 

When Marilyn saw him wake up, he almost smiled, blissfully happy, but his countenance betrayed his feelings, and he instead glared at the man lying before him, his brown eyes wet with tears that he kept forcefully blinking back. “You. Fucking. Piece. Of. _Shit_.” Trent cringed at his vicious stress of the final insult but simply laid there, never breaking eye contact, drinking him in with watering eyes as well. Marilyn’s eyes, filled with passionate anger however, wandered from Trent’s fucking, gorgeous face to the IV tube shoved into his hand. “You f-fu-ucking piece of sh-hit…” Marilyn’s voice broke as he stammered the words and a sob escaped his lips that he couldn’t smother fast enough. The Antichrist had grown soft…

 

A choked sob much more heartrending than his own reached his ears, and Marilyn immediately glanced up after trying and failing to pull his hair out with both hands. He found Trent violently dashing at his tears that had visibly begun to fall down his pale cheeks. As much as it pained him, killed him to see his lover in this emotional state, hurting, vulnerable, Marilyn decided to be selfish just one more time.

 

“No,” he said firmly though his voice shook. Marilyn gripped Trent’s hand as he advanced upon him and looked him dead in the eyes. “You fucking cry. Cry over what you did to me. Go on now- “ Instead of finishing, Marilyn leaned forward, zeroing in on those beautiful, full lips wet with Trent’s tears and kissed him. Hard. He tasted him, savoring the salty yet sweet feel of his lips. He leaned into Trent’s free hand that reached up to glide fingers through his jet black tousled hair and felt the unfamiliar plastic texture of the tubes that connected him to his IV.

 

“Stay with me…” Trent heard Marilyn mutter in between kisses, and a hand gripped his shoulder as if he would evaporate and drift away. “Don’t leave me. Stay. Stay…”

 

Trent came to the immediate realization as he murmured these pleas against his soft lips that Marilyn had completely forgiven him, for everything. When Trent pressed his lips hungrily against that mouth that was made to melt the skin from his bones, Marilyn knew that he had forgiven him as well, and for that, he closed his eyes, satisfied and somewhat content. Neither spoke for a long time; they simply held each other close, clutching one another and afraid that the other may slip through their fingers just like the last time. All wariness, all thoughts of knowing how everything had changed permanently drifted from their minds in this moment. All they wanted was to remain pressed together; nothing else mattered as their lips shaped and formed to one another’s, as their breaths mingled, as their hands grasped and held on desperately.

 

“I’m taking you home…” Marilyn murmured against his lips.


	2. Just Like You Imagined

Days had passed since Trent was released from the hospital and brought to Marilyn’s place, but things had not started to calm down as soon as they had initially hoped. Marilyn was protective of his lover and even made it clear to Jeordie that he could not enter the premises if he was high or had drugs on him, especially coke. This went the same for the rest of the band mates, who mostly left Trent undisturbed. Marilyn, on the other hand, stayed by his side at all times, letting him rest in his bed and feeding him when he emptied his stomach.

 

The withdrawals were an insufferable process, and sometimes Trent became inconsolable or even uncontrollable. Marilyn remembered feeling the restless, erratic movements beside him in his bed one night and knew that once again Trent was having trouble sleeping. He heard him sit up abruptly and watched with one eye open as Trent placed his head in his hands, shaking violently. Then he roughly pulled the sheets aside, and Marilyn watched as he dashed to the bathroom across the way, a hand covering his mouth. Once he heard loud retching and choking noises, Marilyn calmly got out of bed, tiptoed downstairs, filled a glass with cool water, and then climbed back up towards the bathroom, approaching Trent’s trembling, huddled form next to the toilet.

 

“Here,” he offered quietly, holding the glass out to him. Trent huffed and then glared to the side, snaking his hand out and knocking it out of Marilyn’s hand. It fell to the tiled floor, shattering and spilling water everywhere.

 

Marilyn jumped up and advanced on Trent, grasping his jaw with one hand and gazing into his quivering green eyes sternly. “Get your fucking shit together,” he growled and tightened his grip. “I can’t deal with you if you’re like this, Reznor.” Trent lowered his eyes, unable to bear that look any longer for fear that he would crumble in his tears and self-pity instantly in Marilyn’s arms. Marilyn noticed his lower lip trembling, and he softened, only a little. “Help me out here,” he murmured gently.

 

Before he could answer, Trent once again felt a pull at his stomach like death warmed over and heaved, gagging into the toilet and gripping the seat. A large warm hand rubbed his back as he continued to vomit and fingers ran through his sweat soaked hair, attempting to calm him. He looked at Marilyn, and the latter stared right back, waiting until he had finished so he could clean him up, take him into his arms once more, and lead him back to the bed. Trent fell asleep like that in Marilyn’s arms, curled up like a cat with his nose pressed against his chest, breathing in the now faint scent of his cologne and almost smiling to himself.

 

Marilyn watched him, how the rise and fall of his own chest seemed to lull him to sleep, peacefully, evenly. As gently as he could so that he wouldn’t wake him, Marilyn slid his hand down his back, studying the grooves of his spine between his fingers and tenderly caressing his skin through the fabric of his thin white t shirt. The man was irresistible, even when he was broken and sore, even when his misery outweighed his happiness. Marilyn used to like that, that he was broken just like he was. Now he just wanted all of him, all to love and possess.

 

Marilyn held him. And he didn’t let go.


	3. I Can Still Feel You

“You look better.”

 

Trent glanced up from the glossy ivory keys and smiled only slightly at the tall, dark figure leaning against the door frame before returning his full attention back to the instrument beneath his slender fingers. He had to admit that even Pogo had some interesting selections for keyboards, and he couldn’t take his eyes off one of them. With a coy grin, he muttered, “Don’t tell Stephen.”

 

Marilyn smiled and took some time to take him in. Trent’s face, no longer frighteningly thin and pallid from his accident and recovery, was full and even content; the color had completely returned to his soft cheeks. His dark hair was tousled in such a way that wasn’t too messy and unkempt but rather sexy; Marilyn found himself longing to run his fingers through the soft-looking tendrils and bury his face in his hair just like he used to do not too long ago. Breathing in, he walked through the doorway and placed himself next to Trent on the bench. As always, Trent seemed far too interested in the keyboard before him to take anymore notice of him. He would just have to change that, he thought, smirking to himself.

 

“What’s so funny?” Trent asked blankly, eyes still focused on the black and white keys in front of him.

 

Marilyn shrugged and grinned. “I was just wondering how I should fuck you today.” Trent snapped to attention and immediately turned to face Marilyn, who was looking rather pleased with himself. “There he is!” Chuckling, Marilyn leaned forward so that his lips just barely met the skin of Trent’s ear and continued in an undertone of needful lust, “But seriously, it’s been weeks…” Slowly and sensually with a tentative, teasing touch that was driving Trent insane, he placed a hand on his thigh and slid it up closer and closer to where Trent’s heat was building. “…and I can’t keep living with you if I can’t rip your clothes off periodically. I’ll go nuts.” Trent’s breath hitched in his throat, leaving Marilyn looking rather satisfied with himself. “Besides, I deserve a huge thank you for everything I’ve done this past month.”

 

Trent swallowed and tried to ignore the gradual tightening of his jeans, but Marilyn’s hand kept moving up at such an agonizingly slow pace. Before Marilyn could even dare to think of touching his growing bulge, Trent grasped his hand and squeezed. Then he let him go, got up from his seat at the bench, and walked off. Marilyn watched him go, narrowing his eyes in an amused expression until he saw one shoe flying across the hall. Then the other. There went the socks. As soon as he caught Trent’s t shirt sailing through the air and landing in the pile, Marilyn leapt from his seat and ran after him while removing his shirt, stumbling up the stairs, and hearing an occasional snicker and giggle in the mix of clattering footsteps. _Fucking tease…_

 

Marilyn burst through the door of his room only to find Trent desperately fumbling with his belt and failing to remove his jeans fast enough. “Dammit…” he cursed under his breath, and Marilyn smiled, approaching him. “Help me?” The smile became a wide, full grin, and he nodded, chuckling at his predicament.

 

Taking him into his arms, Marilyn lowered his head and caught Trent’s lips with his own, sucking and biting at the tender flesh and causing Trent to release quiet moans that he had been holding back up until now. Marilyn sneered triumphantly against his mouth and tugged at his jeans, sliding his belt out from his waistband in one simple gesture. Maybe some other day he could use it… but not today. Today, Trent was his to love and caress and enjoy. He reeled at the thought of hearing more of his whimpers and moans and sighs when he would take him in the throes of passion. He couldn’t wait to see him squirm beneath him, crying, begging for more, begging for him to fuck him.

 

Suddenly Trent’s hands reached out and pulled on Marilyn’s own pants, taking the underwear with them. In response, Marilyn pressed his pale, warm body flush against Trent’s and began to grind, slowly and rhythmically against his lower half, forcing him to break from their kiss with a high lusty whine and give Marilyn the chance to press his hot, swollen lips against his throat ravenously. With his hands laced together at his back, he moved his lips down from his neck and along his chest, pausing to suck, bite, and abuse the flesh in certain spots that made Trent cry out shamelessly.

 

“Unh, fuck me…” Trent murmured selfishly, running his hands through Marilyn’s dark hair and lightly tugging on it in fistfuls. Marilyn groaned as he did so and continued to attack his chest with his tongue and lips before gently nudging him back on the soft mattress and climbing on top of him.

 

“As you wish,” he replied brazenly and drew in for another melting kiss. “Roll over. On your stomach.” Trent complied with a grunt of approval, and Marilyn assumed his position between his legs, aligning himself against his ass. With two fingers, he leaned over him, caressing his smooth back and ordered, “Suck.” Trent did so and moaned against his fingers, sliding his tongue seductively along the digits until they were both nice and wet. Pressing them against his entrance, Marilyn grasped a handful of Trent’s hair and gently pulled his head back to place a heated yet loving kiss at the soft, sensitive skin underneath his jaw. When he felt him relax against his lips and fingers, Marilyn slowly pushed them in, pumping, curling, and stretching them inside of him.

 

Trent gasped at the sharp pain of two fingers at once and then released a whine that most definitely insinuated that he wanted, needed more. He clawed at the pillow that he lay on and squeezed his eyes shut as Marilyn continued to pump and stretch his insides. “Fill me up, mmh…” he practically begged once his lover slowly slid his fingers out from his wet confines and reached for the convenient bottle of lube on the intable by the bed.

 

Marilyn didn’t care that some spilled onto the sheets as he rubbed his throbbing, erect cock with it. Tossing the bottle aside hastily, he spread Trent’s legs a little more and yanked his ass against his crotch, pleased with the whine that escaped his lips. He placed a hand on his back for leverage, letting the fingers splay out over his smooth skin to stroke and tease and gradually pushed in, uttering a wanton, guttural sound once his dick became engulfed by Trent’s wet warmth.

 

Trent’s hands left the pillow immediately and held onto the headboard so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Fuck…” he murmured almost desperately and lowered his head, panting heavy breaths. Once Marilyn pulled back and slammed in with an unexpected force, Trent saw stars as the pleasure struck and cried out obscenely, “Ah, fuck! Brian!” Marilyn smiled and thrust in again, starting at a steady pace and making sure to hit that spot that would make Trent scream for him again.

 

Suddenly the door slammed shut downstairs and boisterous voices echoed in foyer. Marilyn recognized them as Jeordie and Stephen and frantically shoved Trent down further into the sheets and mattress.

 

“Brian, please- mmph!” Trent began, voice full of want until Marilyn quickly pressed his hand over his mouth to muffle his moans.

 

“Sh, sh, sh!” he quietly hissed and listened intently.

 

“Hey, Brian!” he heard Stephen calling out. “Where you at?”

 

“Oh god…” Jeordie’s voice sounded wary as Marilyn realized that he knew what was going on.

 

“What? Oh…”

 

“Yeah. Let’s come back later. I don’t want to be around to hear Brian boning Trent.”

 

While they had been talking, Marilyn took the time to continue thrusting gently and slowly in and out of Trent, which caused him to moan and whimper against his hand. “Shh, babe…” he crooned soothingly in his ear and grinned mischievously at Trent’s reaction while he pleasurably tortured him. Trent longed to moan and scream in passion and bliss but knew better considering his lover’s band mates could probably hear the whole thing from downstairs. Once they heard the door slam shut, Marilyn released his hand from his mouth, and Trent gasped, feeling him pull out of him.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, turning his head to gaze at him.

 

Marilyn’s fingers pressed into his hips and turned him over onto his back, spreading his thighs wider apart so he could gain better access. “I want to see your face when I take you,” he breathed, caressing his cheek.

 

Trent blushed and sucked in a breath when Marilyn traced his fingers down his throat and past his chest. He counted his ribs and placed his hand on his concave stomach before pressing a warm, loving kiss to it. Trent’s blush deepened. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Marilyn murmured. “How did I almost lose you?”

 

Without warning, he slammed into him again and Trent cried out in pleasure at being filled up completely once more. “Unh, I love you,” he groaned and grabbed Trent’s wrists, pinning them above his head with one hand. Trent mewled and closed his eyes, feeling his body rock against Marilyn’s, feeling their heat build between them. “Look at me,” Marilyn ordered and he complied, flashing his eyes open and staring deep into those brown ones.

 

“I love you,” he repeated. _He loved him._

 

Wrapping a hand around Trent’s quivering dick, he began pumping his shaft in time to his thrusts. Trent cried out desperately, passionately for Marilyn and as his movements became sloppy around his member and inside of him, as they both felt themselves reaching their peak, they came together, moaning and panting and murmuring each other’s name in their high.

 

Marilyn pulled out of Trent and released his wrists from his grip, planting a sweet kiss against his forehead and falling on his back beside him. Trent turned on his side and wrapped his leg around Marilyn’s hip, who pulled him in closer to kiss him.

 

“I love you,” Trent uttered softly when they pulled away.

 

Pulling him against his chest, knowing that he was alive and real, flesh and eyes and all, Marilyn said, “I’ll never leave you again.” And Trent believed him.

 


End file.
